


what a dark father to dwell in me

by Ameliapll



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe- Prodigal Son Fusion, Barry Allen & Iris West Friendship, Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Barry Allen Whump, Bisexual Barry Allen, Good Leonard Snart, Good Parent Joe West, Graphic Description of Corpses, Henry Allen killed Nora Allen, M/M, Multi, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Iris West, Protective Joe West, Slow Burn, murderer Henry Allen, they all do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29106363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameliapll/pseuds/Ameliapll
Summary: "My name's not Barry West," Barry blinks back tears. "It's really Barry Allen. My father is Henry Allen. I'm the Surgeon's son."or a coldflash Prodigal Son AU
Relationships: Barry Allen & Iris West, Barry Allen & Joe West, Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

_Fourteen years ago_

  
  


The sound of sirens were almost deafening to eleven year old Barry Allen, but he forced himself not to flinch. 

“Bar,” Henry Allen said, kneeling and taking his son’s hands in his. “You’ll be okay. Because- and I need you to always remember this- we’re the same,”

Barry flinched as Detective Joseph West wrenched Henry up, shoving him out and into a cop car. 

The news reports the following week all said the same thing:

“Henry Allen has been arrested for multiple murders, including the murder of his own wife. The serial killer was titled the Surgeon in the media, due to his methodology of killing...”

_Now._

Barry West closes his eyes. 

“Special Agent?” Sheriff Eddie Thawne repeats, a touch irritated. When they had met, he had been bouncy and energetic, but Barry could see Thawne’s stressors mile away. Secretly, he was anxious to find and stop this killer. Angry that Dwyer kept getting through his fingers. Sad that so many people had died under his watch. 

“Sorry,” Barry says. “But do you hear the cicadas? They’re amazing, they can actually mimic their predator's own sound. And that means that the predators generally don’t eat it,”

“With all due respect, Special Agent, what does that have to do with our case? Orlin Dwyer’s got hostages. We need a plan.” Thawne stresses. 

“Dwyer feels safe when he hears the cicadas,” Barry turns to him. “He’s here, so let’s go get him.”

\----

Despite the fact that he’d been told to not split up with the police, Barry sees an isolated building and sneaks in, the calls of _clear!_ disappearing from his ears the further he enters into the building. There’s nothing here, no hostages and definitely no serial killer. Sighing, he turns to leave when he comes face to face with Orlin Dwyer, cruel brown eyes glaring over a mask.

“Wait,” he says, just as Dwyer flicks on a taser and shocks him with it. Barry can barely feel himself falling, pain sparking from his chest as he screams despite not being able to hear it, and then he hits his head, hard, on the tiled ground and everything goes black. 

  
  


_Fourteen years ago_

_“Dad.” eleven year old Barry asked. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep his father from seeing him sweat, “dad, can I ask you a question?”_

_“Anything you want, Barry,” Henry said warmly. Despite his comforting tone, his son wasn’t so swayed. Of course, it was hard to be comforted when your father was wearing an orange jumpsuit and was accessorised with a vast array of silver chains._

_Young Barry licked his mouth nervously. “Why did you kill all of those people?” he asked in a tiny voice. “Why did you kill_ mom _?”_ _Henry’s smile dropped slightly._

_“Why did I kill all those people?” he echoes thoughtfully. “Well, truth be told, Barry, I’m not sure. But seeing as I have so much time in here, what do you say we work it out together, bud?”_

_Barry stepped back._

_“Was there anything else?”_

_“On the TV, they call you a monster, dad,” he looked up into his dad’s eyes. Brown, not green like his. “Are you?”_

_“Oh, no, Barr! No, no, no,” Henry said, as compassionately as he could. “No, my sweet boy, there’s no such thing as monsters, I promise,”_ _  
  
_

_And Barry Allen had the feeling his father was lying._

_Both about there not being monsters and the fact that he said he wasn’t one._

  
  


_Now._

Barry struggles his eyes open. He shakes his head, forcing himself not to panic and focussing instead on what’s fact. He’s bound, but not gagged. Which meant Dwyer probably would want to kill him first. The hostages are there, worse for wear but still alive, still breathing. There are large jars with human heads and other limbs in them. A noise catches his attention, and he looks up.

Orlin Dwyer is standing there, holding a shotgun to Barry’s head.

“Whoa, hey, Orlin,” he laughs nervously. “...how’s your day?”

“How the hell’d you find me?” Dwyer snarls, releasing the safety. 

“Well...okay, you want the long story short, I profiled your victims and it occured to me that their skin was so untouched, it looked like when butchers choose meat from a slaughterhouse and there was only one incident of a person being raised in a slaughterhouse and that was here. Discovering it was you was a tiny bit harder bit harder to work out,” 

“How?” Dwyer growls.

“You and your brother were moved here, wards of the state, right? But he got out. He married, had a child. Your niece.”

“Gracie,” Dwyer whispers, unrecognisable from the murderer that he’d framed himself as before. Barry nods encouragingly.   
  


“Yeah, Grace. Her death broke you, right? Because you loved her. So much. And from then on, the only person you could find intimacy with was the person you were killing. You weren’t born broken, Orlin. And you probably won’t stay broken. Just let me help you,”

“How?” Dwyer asks, with uncertainty.

“Just put the revolver down and I’ll tell you,” 

Dwyer glares but slowly starts lowering his rifle. 

“That’s good, that’s really good,” Barry says, smiling and nodding. He feels warm, he loves being able to talk people down and making them see that there is more to life than murder. He makes the mistake of blinking and a gunshot rings out, making his eardrums throb. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds that Orlin Dwyer is face down, dead. In the doorway, Eddie Thawne is holding a smoking gun. 

“What the hell?” Barry shouts, struggling out of his bonds. “No, no, he was putting it down!”

“I didn’t see that,” Eddie responds. “I thought he was about to shoot you, it was self defence,”

“For who?! I was taking care of it!”

He gets to his feet, snarling at Thawne. 

“Are you serious right now? Look, kid, I just saved your life-“

Barry’s temper reaches a boiling point and he whips around, punching Thawne out before standing over him, seething. 

“I am _not_ your child,”

——-//—-

“I get it,” Barry sighs forty eight hours later. “Punching a sheriff is an unspoken rule, right?”

“It’s spoken,” his senior agent, Wells, says grimly. “West, you’re brilliant, sure, but these reports are damning. You ignored protocol, didn’t listen to anyone who said no to you, and you pissed off every cop between here and Tennessee,”

“All in all, that’s only four good cops, right?” Barry asks, smiling. Wells didn’t look amused. 

“You’re brilliant, but this isn’t the first time this has happened. We got the sign off. West, you’re fired,”

Barry feels like someone’s punched him. “What? No, no, I caught Dwyer! I saved those people!”

“Sorry Barry,” Wells says softly, guiltily. “But we’re afraid you suffer from psychotic inclinations, not unlike your fathers. Your PTSD, narcissistic tendencies...I mean, West, c’mon! You ran into that warehouse with no regards for anyone’s safety, least of all your own.”

A burning rage sears in Barry’s stomach. “Just so you know, the Surgeon is a sociopath, not psychotic. Not that I would expect you to know the difference, it’s only your _job_!”

He slams his badge and gun down on the table. 

“And the next time you wanna call someone crazy? Ask for their gun first!”

\-----

_Eight years ago_

_"I keep coming back to it," Henry Allen said. "What if psychopathy isn't a disease? What if it's a misunderstood genius?"_

_"Genius? Come on," Barry rolled his eyes but his lips still twitched, anyway, "Dahmer, for example, wasn't that smart. He kept so many body parts in his fridge that he didn't even have room for groceries,"_

_"Well," Henry said, leaning forwards conspiratorially, "one could say those were the groceries,"  
_

_Barry chuckled, looking down. "And I should get going. See you, dad,"_

_"You know," Henry said as Barry stood, "I really do value our talks. I've missed so much of my son growing up that this is nice,"_

_"I value these times too,"_

_"I do know my son well enough to know when he's not telling me everything," Henry gave him a stern look, but Barry could see a mischievous glint in his eye, "go on, then, Barry..."_

_"I applied to Quantico," he blurted. "To work with the FBI,"_

_Henry sighed sympathetically. "Barry, you've always been a sweet boy, but let's face the facts- your father is a serial killer. They'll never trust you,"_

_Irritation flared in Barry. "These sessions are over,"_

_"Over?" echoed Henry, oddly calm, "no. I won't allow it."_

_"You're in a cell. There's not a lot you can do to stop me,"_

_"NO! Barry! You're my only contact to the outside world, I don't want this!"_

_"Maybe you not getting what you want is a good thing,"_

_He turned to the cell door only to find it locked._

_"No," he muttered, "no, this isn't how it happened, I haven't seen you in over five years,"_

_Chains dropped behind him. "I won't let you go, Barry." Henry said calmly. Barry turned slowly. His dad stood right behind him._

_And then he reached out and gently touched Barry's face, and he couldn't help but scream._

_\--_

Barry shoots up in bed, sweating, heart racing. He spits out his mouth guard and unshackles himself. 

_Just a nightmare_ , he convinces himself, but he knows the truth. It wasn't a dream. It was an omen.

And now he has to face the music.


	2. 2

“This is so unfair!” Iris West scowls as they trudge with coffees along the one beach in Central. There were rumours of a tidal wave years ago, and the beach is pretty much empty now. “They sacked you because of who your dad is? I’m gonna find them, and-“

“Iris, you’re 5’3” and untrained and there’s only one of you. They’re...taller than me. And trained.” Barry chuckles. 

“I’ll write a very strongly worded article in the Central City Picture News,”

Barry chuckles. 

“Barry, can I be blunt?” Iris’s eyes gloss over with concern and she stops walking, him matching her pace. 

“Sure, yeah. What’s up?”

“Bar, you look like microwaved shit. Have your nightmares been coming back?”

If it had been anyone else, Barry would have snapped at them to mind their own business. 

“I’m fine, Iris. Trust me,”

“You know, I can’t remember when your dad got arrested,” Iris says quietly. “But I remember you, after. You were so quiet. Didn’t even cry,”

She grabs his hands and smiles. “You kept on telling me that you were okay. Remember what I said to you?”

“That it would be okay if I wasn’t okay. And I would tell you, Iris, but I  _ am _ fine,” 

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good,” Iris says, finally relaxing before she smiles and stands on her toes, kissing his cheek. “All I want is for you to be happy, Barry.” 

“And I am,”

She grins, linking their arms. “You know this could be a good thing! You could get away from all that murder!”

“Mmmm, sure,”

“I mean it!”

She slows as she gets a text. “Sorry. CCPN,”

“Let me guess, another interview about knowing the Surgeon as Henry Allen? Him being a second father to you?” 

“Cute, but no. Just some white collar crap. That’s happening now, crap. Okay, I have to go. I love you, Bar, okay?”

“Love you too, ‘Ris,”

She blows him a kiss and starts walking away before turning back, walking backwards. 

“Remember what I said! No murder!”

Barry nods, chuckling. He continues walking before stopping, the past minute playing back in his head. 

Barry’s always been able to tell when Iris lies to him to protect him because she glances at him and when he isn’t looking, she glances to the right and tucks hair behind her left ear. 

And after she got that text, she exhibited all three of those stress reactors. 

“Bar!”

Startled, he glances around and then relaxes, smiling. Detective Joseph West leans against a cop car. 

“Joe, what’re you doing here?”

“Says the one who came home and didn’t tell his friends and family he was coming,”

“Um,” Barry raises an eyebrow. “I have family? And friends? You have the wrong man,”

“Shit, I missed you too, kid,” Joe chuckles, pulling Barry in for a hug. When they pull back, he keeps his hands on Barry’s shoulders. 

“What’s wrong? You look more like a startled puppy than normal,”

“Iris just lied to me,”

“Bar, I love her, but Iris is a journalist. It’s kinda her job to hide details,”

“She’s only a journalist because you wouldn’t let her be a cop,”

“ _ Barry _ ,”

“Iris would’ve let me know if it was pretty much anything…” Barry loses himself in the profile. “But just after she lied, she said that I should take a break from murder. Which probably means that the report was for a murder. And if it was a murder…”

He looks up, the final piece of the puzzle sliding in at lightning speed. 

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? But the FBI fired me,”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a murder serious enough that I had to track you down. ‘Sides, I’m not FBI. I’m CCPD.” Joe’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “Always knew  _ you’d  _ come back. You’re not an FBI man,”

Barry says nothing but smiles before something occurs to him. “Hey, Joe? Do me a favour?”

“Sure,”

“Let’s  _ not  _ go through the entrance Iris is at if it’s a murder,”

After all, Iris would not be pleased if she found Barry at a murder site, moments after she quite explicitly told him not to involve himself with murder. 

——-

Barry looks around the hotel. When he had left, they were just building this. He can see Iris, back turned to him, interviewing a witness. 

“Victim’s name is Eliza Harmon. I’ve got the medical report,” a slow drawl comes. Absently, Barry notes that it’s not  _ unfriendly,  _ but it is cautious and likely because of him- the stranger in their midsts. But he has a body to look over and doesn’t have time to reassure the stranger that he’s no threat 

“Oh, I’ll take that, thank you,” he says, his mind catching up with the man’s words, eyes still scanning for the body. 

“Who’s this?”

“Leonard Snart, meet Barry West. Barry’s my adopted son, an FBI profiler, and an extremely acquired taste,”

“Good to know,” Leonard Snart, apparently, drawls. Barry glances up, and wished he didn’t. Because Leonard Snart is  _ art.  _ And he can tell exactly what his body posture is saying, can read every emotion in icy blue eyes. 

Being a profiler with a broken off button is frankly terrible when you’re a disaster bi. 

Barry’s opened his mouth to talk. 

“West,” a low voice calls. “Vic’s name is Eliza Harmon. Doctor. Unmarried. Rich. Also known as my type,”

“Chester P, meet Barry West. Barry, meet Chester. You two aren’t gonna get on,” Joe says. Barry senses him rolling his eyes. 

He swallows his remark-  _ what, are you a necrophiliac or something?-  _ and instead pushes past Chester to get at the body. 

Eliza Harmon’s body is, at first sight, untouched. Her brown hair fans out over the ground, like in the movies. She was shocked before she died. 

Barry glances around, his eyes catching on a fallen glass, shattered.  _ A champagne glass.  _ There’s not liquid surrounding the broken pieces, so she either drank it before (unlikely, because there would still be some residual champagne), or she was meeting someone. 

A new profile sparks in his head and he glances back at Eliza. Her hair’s curled loosely, even as it’s fanned out against the ground. She’s wearing a delicate red-and-gold negligee that looks expensive. 

Okay, so she was meeting someone, probably a lover. Question is, did she drop her champagne because of them rushing her, or…

  
  


Barry squints one eye, using his arm to measure the span between the doorway and the champagne glass, and then the champagne glass to Eliza. 

“What’re you doing?”

Leonard Snart. Barry hadn’t heard him approach. 

“Seeing how the killer overpowered her,” he says. 

“You think like a killer,”

It wasn’t accusatory nor disgusted. It was neutral, but Barry feels his defences rise. 

“It’s a gift. Really.”

Leonard doesn’t look convinced, but Barry frowns, creating another, clearer image in his mind. 

“She was meeting someone,” he says aloud, finalising his profile. “The only problem was that the wrong man showed up.”

He frowns. “I can’t quite work out how he overpowered her,”

“How’d you know it was a guy?” Leonard drawls. “Women can be capable of more than you think,”

“See her eyes?” Barry points. “They’re looking up. Like if she was standing, then her killer would have been significantly taller than her. Now generally, grown men are significantly taller than women because of the time their growth spurt’s end.”

“Plus,” Chester adds. “Eliza was on a dating site and identified as heterosexual,”

“That too,”

“The only question I have is how he managed to subdue her  _ without  _ leaving any marks,”

“He drugged her,” Chester says. “Look at the side of her neck, that’s definitely a needle mark,” 

Barry feels his stomach drop out from under his feet. 

_ “Now remembers, Bar. The femoral artery is in the thigh, right? What does it do?” _

_ Young Barry squinted as he thought. “Supplies blood to the bottom of the body?” _

_ “That’s right! Well done, Barry!” _

“There’ll be another needle mark near the top of her thigh, in her femoral artery. Someone interjected a paralytic into her body, that’s how she was subdued. And that’s how she died. Because her body shut down while she was paralysed,” Barry’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. 

“How the hell do you know so much?” Leonard Snart’s voice is suspicious. 

“Because I’ve seen this murder before. Our killer’s a copycat. From a murderer who killed fourteen years ago. The Surgeon. Henry Allen,”

“You know a lot about this Allen guy?” 

“Oh,” Barry drawls, shooting an accusatory glare at Joe. “Almost like he’s family,”

He slams the medical report into his guardian’s chest and storms out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I wouldn’t update for a while but here we are. I was really excited to write this part up and introduce the remaining main characters (most of them). 
> 
> But I do think chapter 3 will come after I finish my Joss/Nora story because I’m close to wrapping that up. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought, I’m very open to feedback/creative criticism.

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know how long it'll be before the next update! I'm balancing university, and two other multichapter fics but I couldn't get this AU out of my head. It won't be exactly like the show but it will have similarities. More characters will be introduced soon enough.


End file.
